Poison Queen
by elys
Summary: "I accept the challenge, Miss Travers," Riddle said. "I will be waiting for our final duel impatiently. And all you said, Miss Travers, I accept it as a high-level compliment. I will not hurt you, so you can mute your magic." "It's not that simple, Riddle." she snapped, She wanted to be a Queen, he wanted to rule the world. What happens, when two souls, that desire the power meet?
1. Chapter 1

**1\. The Black Queen**

 **AN: The "Poison" comes from the song "Poison" by Rita Ora . I fell in love with this song, and at the time, when the outlines of the story began to appear, I knew I was going to use it. "Queen" is the highest noble title for a woman. I wanted the Maleficent title to outrun Tom's title.**

 **I am not native English speaker, so please, don't hate me for my mistakes.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter. Rowling do.**

 **Enjoy and please share you thoughts about it!**

 _ **These are your foot soldiers. They have the least freedom and the least power, but because they're willing to sacrifice themselves for their betters you can't win without them.(...) This is your rook – the king's fortress. It is the only piece on the board that can legally take the king's place at any time. Its role is to confuse the enemy. (...)The bishop. Slick and dangerous, he has huge power. I think of him as the queen's bit of rough.(...) The king. Almost always weaker than you'd think – all the pieces protect him but he almost never helps anyone else, because if he does he could die. (...)The queen. She's a complete bitch. But if you want to win, you have got to work with her.**_

 _ **C. J. Daugherty "Night School"**_

She threw her long, jet black waves on the arm of leather armchair. Her slender legs were overhanging on the other side, painting in the air notes familiar only to her. Green eyes stared passionately at the flames, tracking every its lick. The fingers of the left hand were tapping on the seeable ribs, as if they were the keys in her favorite piano, and the fingers of her right hand played a completely different melody.

From the mouth came murmurs, quiet whispers, sounding like words. An educated musician, having seen her, might think she had no idea what she was doing. The movements of her feet, her hands, and the sounds she made were in no way connected with each other.

 _Because they do not have to connect_ , she would answer, _They are thoughts, galloping in my mind, not allowing me to sleep, not allowing me to breathe._

 _It's a libretto_ , she added, _which can not be heard._

Her peers would say she was mad. They would say that it is not proper for a woman her age to sit in a dark room at such late hour, even if it is a Common Room of her House. They would say that it does not fit for her to sit in that way, her hair not combed, she was not dressed in the best garments, but in one of her oldest nightgowns.

 _You bring shame to your family_ , her stepmother would say with disgust, Y _ou also embarrass me and my son. Why can't you be like others girls your age?_

 _You are **not** my mother_, she said for the first time, ignoring the presence of her father, _You are only the woman my father is fucking._

Her father never hit her before. The daughter did not know whether it was a curse, her behavior towards her stepmother, a blinding truth, or a memory of her mother. The girl did not apologize despite father's request. Later, threats only aggravated the matter. The thirteen-year-old ride off of every her dress, skirt, shirt, blouse, which was in a bright shade. She throw away all necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets that were not her mother's.

Her eyes were not longer bright, her lips were not smiling. The mansion was quiet and grim, the brunette's voice no longer decorated her father and stepmother's balls, the piano stood in a dusty room not touched for three years.

She is sixteen now, she is in Peron 9 and ¾, her father is standing in front of her, her stepmother is beside him, and she sobs because she has to part with her dearest son, Edmund. She orders him to stay away from trouble, from this Eileen Prince, who poisoned his young mind and if he can not handle something, then he has to go to his older sister.

Father tries to reach to her, says goodbye, wishes her good luck to befriend Robert Lestrange or Orion Black. Their family is a family of pureblood wizards, there was never a halfblood, muggleborn, muggle. For generations they have been close to the Malfoys, the Flints and the Zabinis. They were related to one of the Peverell brothers, Ignotus, which meant that they were on a one family tree with Salazar Slytherin, but it was not in a beautiful straight line, so it was impossible to prove and display it. They had the status of a respectable, wealthy wizard family, although the desire to do more wandered somewhere in the middle.

Father touched her throat with his fingertips, then move up to her cheek. She did not shake, though her skin had burned her with the specter of events several years ago. Her father's eyes were gentle, full of love and parental pride, but also sad. He pulled her to him, dipped her face in her hair, absorbed her scent, because he will not feel it until december.

She was a copy of her mother, she did not resemble father in any way. Hair, eyes, nose, mouth, facial features, body posture. The only thing that belonged to her was voice and character, so different from her mother. The voice was angelic, not high nor low, perfect for singing, and with her present appearance, so unlike her. Her mother was a sweet woman, always smiling, full of joy. If she had not died, her daughter would have been the same.

 _Answer all the letters, all right?_ , he begged, _Not only about the grades or making wishes. Please, sweetheart, only you..._

 _Do not say anything_ , she interrupt him, _And do not lie, because it does not fit you. I'm not coming back this year for Christmas._

She grabbed the trunk and did not even look back when her father was calling for her, pleading. Since that day, two weeks have passed, not much has changed, except for the mass of letters that just burned in the fireplace. She did not read any of them, but she felt that Edmund would come to her in a few days, passing on the bitter words of her father. They will not send the howler, for that she was sure it would be a foul on the honor of their family.

The fire slowly died down, her body was aching, her jaw accustomed to constant clenching was pleased with the change. She did not sleep a wink all night, lying in a chair in the same position without changing the repertoire of gestures. She did not have to worry about classes, it was Saturday, for several hours if her inner clock was not wrong, so she would not be worried abut sleeping on them today.

It was gossip that worried her. She could only find out about them at meals, having just heard the conversation of other students. She could not boast of a large number of acquaintances, mainly, because her behavior changed. In the third grade she was social butterfly, and she would have dare to say that even Gryffindors were ready to be friend with her, despite the gap between the Houses. Everything changed when she realized she was a Slytherin. It took her three years, exchanging sentences with stepmother and cheek from her father. Slytherins take care only of their business, they trample over people to to achieve theirs aim, they have no friends, only allies.

On this August day, a small, spoiled girl discovered what she could do to make sure no one will hit her in the future, nobody would push her around. Authority. She desired power. She was sensitive under the shade, so she built a wall, and began to prepare. She did not want to be married to the Minister of Magic or to be the Minister of Magic. She wanted changes, a change that would make her the Queen, she dreamed of absolute power. She knew it was hard to accomplish, but she was ambitious and cunning, and her natural skills and beauty only made her work easier.

She wanted to get rid of all the poisoned minds in the world of wizards. She did not care about the blood status, she was interested in the skills. She often wondered if it was good that there were only two girls in her year, Isabella Max and her. Somewhere there a huge potential may be wasted, and in Hogwarts fools were receiving a great knowledge. She thought that school should be divided into years, of course, and additionally to the group: basic and advanced. Some students cannot continue to follow the material, because professors give others more time. The Ministry was similar. The highest rank was the richest, not the most skilled.

Only her gender interfered with her goal. In muggle and wizard's Great Britain wars took place, but only in muggle's world women could begin to work on equal terms with men, gaining the rights that she dreamed of.

 _If only I had come to power_ , she thought.

"Look at what the cat dragged in." she heard. She peered away from the red light and lazily turned it over to the speaker.

Malfoy leaned on the back of her chair, his gray eyes wandering around her bare legs and naked neck. His hair was ruffled, his clothes unbuttoned, he smelled of wood. She shifted her gaze to the boy behind Malfoy. Usually Nott's perfectly flattened hair were spread all over, his uniform undo, his shoes drenched in mud. She did not have to look at the third one to know where they were.

"I should now deduct you points for pacing on the Forbidden Forest during nighttime." she said without commenting his earlier statements.

"You will take away points from your House?" Nott interrupted. The brunette got up, adjusted her nightgown so that she was now down to her knees and clenched her lips in a thin line, which with her plump mouth was a huge achievement.

"From this I am well known, Nott," she said calmly but firmly. "What did you even think you were doing? If you were lost in the Forbidden Forest, it would be a horrible for the school, though I must admit, that this vision is tempting."

"Oh," Malfoy muttered. "Would you be worried?" 

"I wouldn't have to, Malfoy. You are talented wizards, Slytherins, not cowards. You would come back alive, because if not, I would resurrect you and murder you again. What worried me was the closure of the school. It would be very likely after the situation two years ago."

"I remember exactly how you looked with distaste at all of this. Poor Lizzy was also scolded by your look, when she said that the mudbloods would get what they desire. Do you know that after that conversation with you she shut down? She even thought to move to the dormitory of the third year."said Cantankerus, occupying the girl's previous place.

She raised her eyebrows up, released her full lips, gave him a look of disdain. Nott was a good wizard, not outstanding, but still useful and brunette could only whine at his ego. Cantankerus had a lot of classes with her, so she could look at his development. She knew that without a husband she would not be a capable part of society, but she needed someone equal to her, and Nott was far behind her.

"You say it like you hoped it would move me. Isabella expressed her opinion, and I mine. She should think before she says anything. Her moving out would be for me only benefical. I'm going to talk with her about this at breakfast, thank you very much for bringing my attention to this subject, Nott."

She saw the boy blink several times, before laughter burst out of his mouth. Cantankerus was a cheerful boy, who wondered the girl because the mischief was not Slytherin's feature. The Sorting Hat is never wrong, you only needed to look at her and what happened when she embraced her inner self.

"You're so adorable!" She tilted her head to one side, not understanding what he meant. Her eyes were astonished, her brows were almost met, her lips gently open. They said that she was soulless, cold, her face always showing dissatisfaction. Where did it come from? "You are such a delight! I have to hug you!"

She stepped a few steps aside, avoiding his embrace, noticing the Head Boy behind her. She bumped into him, and he managed to catch her before she fallen. His hands tightened on her shoulders. Magic swirled in her lower abdomen, buzzed in her blood, even her hair got a dose. The Head Boy is not someone to be ignored, and the girl must be ready for anything.

"Nott, that's enough." he whispered softly, and his companions remembered his existence. The brunette broke out when he was not about to let her go. "I apologize, Miss Travers, Nott does not seem to be himself today."

In his voice she could hear the promise of pain. A chill ran down her back, she was paralyzed. She always avoided the Prefect, tried not to look him in the eye at meetings, they never patrolled together, they greeted by nod only. Something was wrong with him, the girl could not put finger on it, but the feeling was still in there. This year was supposed to be different, she was supposed to be different, stronger, but his magic...

"It's all right, Riddle." she raised her head, the emerald green met with chocolate brown. She changed her stance, her back bent into a perfect bow, her chest pulled forward, her chin up high. "I have know Nott for a long time and his lack of manners is no foreign to me."

Curiosity flashed through his eyes, and Miss Travers lost ground beneath her feet. Apparently, not only was femininity her obstacle to absolutism, but also Riddle.

 _How can anyone have such a dark aura?_ , she thought, not noticing how the boy looked at her, _People named me the Black Queen, and I she was groveling at his feet like he was the King himself._

She did not succumb to the craving, did not give in, did not look away. Even when Nott began to apologize for his behavior, which had not happened before. Only Malfoy's words distracted her from Prefect.

"What are you doing here so early?" he asked, then looked at watch on his wrist. "It's only a few minutes after five."

"Thank you for reminding me, Malfoy," she said, and the corners of her mouth rose gently. "I take forty points from Slytherin, twenty from you and twenty from Nott, for not following the rules and leaving the castle during the night."

"Mal, don't be like that!" Malfoy complainted. "We were friends, didn't we? Do you remember how I carried you on my back, because your legs hurt?"

"No." she said shortly." And do not call me Mal."

"Tom was not punished," Nott said. "Why?"

"Do not color me stupid. Riddle is the Head Boy, and I he cannot be punished for three simple reasons, not to mention the most common fact that prefects cannot subjugate each other. First of all, his condition is impeccable as opposed to you, so he did not have to be in the Forbidden Forest with you. Secondly, I certainly do not want to have an enemy in someone who has the trust of almost all of Hogwarts teachers. Thirdly, you don't annoy the wizards more powerful than you.

"Do you know you just admitted-" Malfoy was having trouble choking on the rest of the sentence, but he quickly recovered, seeing her face. "Mal, you just admitted that someone has power over you. You said that Tom is better, teachers trust him more than they trust you. In addition... you complimented him."

She sighed heavily. She did not think this conversation would go that far. She was tired, her eyes burned from lack of sleep, her body demanding a bath, the best would be quick, cold stream, and they kept pushing.

"I did not say anything that wouldn't be true. He is older, more experienced, has the title of Head Boy and teachers do trust him. He feeds them his sweet lies, Abraxas, he manipulates them. I can recognize the snake when I see one. He has a gift that I do not possess and he uses it. If you would focus more, you could sense how his magic is attacking mine. Our skills are different, that's true, but I have never said he was better than me. He's more powerful, it's a fact. It does not mean that this state of matter will stay like that for long." she gave them a smirk, not paying attention to Tom. "I said he looked impeccably. This is a mere statement, not a compliment. And do not call me Mal."

There was a silence in the Common Room. Travers realized the importance of her words. She set herself as equal with a man, in the background she also promised that she would gain more power than he did. The stepmother would scold her on the spot, ordered her to apologize, although Riddle's name certainly had nothing to do with the respected wizard family. It began to ponder Miss Travers. What root could the Prefect have? Where did he come from and why did his parents give him such a weak name?

She did not have time to ask more questions when the most frightening laughter she have ever heard in her life filled the room. Magic came out of her body again. She felt her magic smoothing her skin, trying to calm her down, though it did not work. The power spilled all over her from head to foot.

"Travers, your hair..." Nott began, but did not finish his speech.

"I accept the challenge, Miss Travers," Riddle said. "I will be waiting for our final duel impatiently. And all you said, Miss Travers, I accept it as a high-level compliment. I will not hurt you, so you can mute your magic."

"It's not that simple, Riddle." she snapped, then quickly returned to stoic stance. "My magic senses danger and reacts to it. It won't stop until I'm at a safe distance from you."

"You can blame your ancestors for it, Mal." joked Malfoy. Passing them, she gave him another glaring look and then disappeared into the corridor to the women's dormitory. While walking toward the room, she could still hear Malfoy joking about the Medusa complex, which Nott reacted with a loud laugh.

She walked into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Isabella was asleep, and the brunette did not want her to wake up. She pulled out of from her trunk a burgundy shirt and dabbled on whether she should wear pants or not. Girls at school did not show up in the pants, and Travers wanted to be the first. The decision was made quickly. She grabbed black, wide pants with high- wasted, heels and a beautician, and headed for the bathroom.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Eyebrows, reddened eyes, greyish skin. Two nights in a row without sleep and that's what happens to you. Miss Travers knew good healing spells that can repair her condition without a few hours of rest. She grabbed her wand, drove it over her closed eyelids, below them and over the face. Everything went back to normal, and she could take the desired shower and plan the first hours of the day.

After cleaning herself up, she will to go to the library to finish herbology paper, write a Veritaserum essay for Slughorn and if she has enough time before breakfast, she will look for books that will help her to write a Transmutation essay. The library has been open since six, which means she will have time to nine to the end the assignments, and if not for Slughorn's desire to extract information about the potion of truth on ten pieces of parchment, she would finish it before breakfast, and later on, she would repeat the material for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, although her talent did not require it. She preferred to have everything under control, however, if she was short of time to read the ' _Secrets of the noble Lord SS',_ she would give up the repetition for this little pleasure.

The book was found in the family library at the end of the holiday. She was halfway through ' _How to understand the purity of blood?',_ so she left it for her stay at Hogwarts. She started reading it on the train and she knew, from the first page, that she was reading about her distant forefather. She decided to enjoy it a little longer and only consumed one chapter a day. Patience would allow her to skip this chapter and read the next two another day, but the title encouraged her so much! ' _The purity of blood, and the magic of the muggleborns'_ has attracted the girl from reviewing the table of contents.

It was always curious for her what had caused Salazar Slytherin to dislike muggleborn wizards and witches so much. This feeling could not appear out of the thin air, the sorcerer, despite his drawbacks, was not a fool. Something had to happen, and Miss Travers could not let go of the mission. She had to know.

She came out from the stream, thoroughly wiped the water from her body, then dressed. The hair was rolled into a bun, remanding her of wave, this hairstyle was fashionable recently, although it did not fit everyone, she applied eyeliner on her eyelids and on her lips bloody red lipstick. She used spells for makeup to last a dozen or so hours and she was ready to go.

In the dormitory she put on heels, which added ten centimeters to her, which with her height, five foot eight, made her look at many boys from above or in the eye without lifting her head. It gave her the feeling of appreciation, as if height was the determinant of power, not the ability to use magic.

She looked at her watch. In five minutes the curfew will end and she will be able to go to the library with no worries. She packed the necessary things into the bag, hung it over her shoulder and left. Passing through Common Room, she remembered conversation between her and the male Slytherins.

Nott, as usual cheerful, Malfoy invariably annoying. The issue was with Tom. His magic brought her barriers to release, and she hated it. Usually she was able to control herself, she had no problem managing her power, at least that she thought. She did not listen to her mother, when she told her about their female ancestors, she was eight years old and she was more interested in whether or not she would be allowed to play with her broom today. She barely remembered it and she knew only two of the most famous witches of her family, her mother's family. It was Medusa and the witch from which her parents borrowed a name for her.

Medusa was the oldest of her known ancestors. Mom said she was a beautiful woman, who served goddess Athena in the temple. Her charm has lured the god of the seas and oceans, Poseidon. Of course, she did it unconsciously. Poseidon enchanted by her appeal, had her on the sacrificial table, which did not necessarily pleased Athena. She punished Medusa, making her a monster with scales instead of skin and snakes in the place of her hair.

Medusa was a very power witch. She cast a spell at herself, that allowed her to turn every young man into a stone with one glance. She died after giving birth to her daughter, killed by Perseus.

 _Your genes can be awaken only by person with a huge resource of magic_ , mama said, _If any of her descendants would succeed, I do not think they would be happy then, because the one who wakes it is the most dangerous, but also the one only, who can control her whole: her heart and her soul._

 _Foolish mom_ , she thought as she approached the library door, _To believe in such nonsense. Maybe I have a piece of Medusa as her heir, but her gift has been not passed to me, and an event in the morning, it was just a pulsating magic in me, insisting on being free._

She greeted Mrs. Broyrin, the librarian, and found herself at the very end of the reading room. She spread the parchments, the inkwell, the quill, and the books she needed on the table, and started working.

 _If it goes well_ , she comforted herself in her mind, _Then you'll read the desired chapter. Work hard!_

If she was more focused on the environment, she might have noticed a pair of brown eyes staring at her curiously. If she was more attentive, she would feel like her hair tried to get out of the bun under the influence of that look. If she listened to her mother, she would have known that her magic had united an inseparable knot with another.

* * *

She entered the Great Hall walking proudly, ignoring the amazed glances. She searched for the blonde hair of her dormitory companion. She was sitting at a table with girls from the fifth year. She approached them.

"Isabelle." She touched her shoulder. The blonde stared at girl with her blue eyes, still not believing what she saw. "Nott informed me, that since our fourth grade your desire is to move to the dormitory of our younger colleagues, but your timid nature has prevented you from doing so. If you feel the need to move out, I do not see a problem. Try to do it before dinner, please. Enjoy your meal."

She left no room for a discussion. It sounded like friendly advice, but everyone felt the cold. Isabelle will have no choice, but to move. She enjoyed the conditions in which she lived. Travers rarely was in the room, sometimes even at night her bed was empty. Indeed, two years ago she was dissatisfied, but after a long time, it began to suit her. She should have know, that Nott would tell her, but she did not care about that then. Why did he do it? Why did he talk to her? Isabella did not know and did not want to know. Knowing this secret is not worth the anger of the Black Queen.

Miss Travers saw the perfect place to have breakfast. Not too far from gossiping students and not too close to them. She was almost there, when she heard the call.

"Mal, come sit down with us!"

The Great Hall seemed to be frozen. Travers arrived for a meal in pants, and now Abraxas Malfoy invites her to spend time together? The girls were green with envy, though they couldn't do anything about it. Attempts to harm the brunette would not end as they would have liked, and they would probably have landed in the Hospital Wing. They went back to eating, not expecting an answer from her, and the rest followed them with the conviction, that nothing more disturbing could happen in their lives.

The brunette paused, the click of his heels stopped. She greeted the professors and the headmaster with a nod and then turned to Malfoy. She was put in an awkward position and it would be rude to refuse. She did not like to do what people demanded of her, although she was not yet a Queen, so she had to keep appearances.

"Do not call me Mal, Abraxas."she demanded, sitting in front of him and Riddle, and next to Nott.

"Do not be like that, Mal! Don't you see how perfect we are for each other? _Mal_ and _Mal_ foy! We have been united in heaven!"

"Your name is Mal, Miss Travers?" Riddle asked, interrupting the conversation. "Everyone always uses your last name or pet name, and when the list of the rounds and duties of the Prefects appears, there are only the first letter of the name and then last name. We have not worked together yet, have we? I would also like to add that you look phenomenal today."

She clenched her jaw. He noticed, and that means a patrol in the near future with him as her company. He should stop with this cool courtesy, because of it the girls do not chase after him, but after Malfoy. She put on a toast on the plate, buttered it with jam, poured tea into the cup and after that replied.

"Thank you, Riddle. You are also presenting marvelous." she replied flattering with the same, or maybe even more, reserve."Yes, we did not have a patrol together yet. I exchanged between the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors. I was the only snake that could bear them and the only one that was accepted. And no, my name is not Mal."

"So how shall I call you?" he pressed, seeing that she had see through his game. She sent him a forced smile, which usually worked on teachers.

"Travers is fine."she assured him. She took a sip of the tea and bit a bit of bread. Red flashed in Riddle's iris, and she immediately tensed. She could see how his fingers clamped on the fork, his mouth forming a thin line. Another reason why girls do not choose him is that, only the teacher have soft spot in their hearts for him. The peers sens his aura, powerful, strong, dark. They see him outside the classroom, after all.

"I wish we could be on the first name terms." he whispered. She swallowed, licked her mouth discreetly and pushed the plate away. She lost her appetite.

"I do not like your or mine name."she said after a moment's of thought. After the words were said by her, Riddle put down the cutlery and became anxiously distressed. "It is not suitable for you, it is common, ordinary and you are unique. Do you have a middle name, Riddle?"

"Marvolo."

"And that is a strong name." she said. "Maleficent Victoria Travers. That's way they keep calling me Mal. Please, let's not address me by my name, so I won't have to call you by yours."

Cantankerus grabbed a patch of her shirt in silent admonition, and Abraxas begged her with a look to stop. She moved uneasily on the bench, her heart slammed harder, she no longer felt superior.

"Maleficent, call me Tom." he murmured before he stood up. He walked to the exit from the Great Hall, but stopped on his way out, turned around and looked at Maleficent. "I will try to organize a patrol for us soon. Be patient."

His voice sharp like razors hurt her ears. Maleficent's eyes narrowed, suggesting the forthcoming explosion. She blinked several times, getting rid of tears. Why didn't she make any sensible insult? She was capable of it!

She jumped up and then followed Tom, ignoring the shouting Malfoy and Nott. She chased the Head Boy to the stairs to the dungeons. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to her, so that their noses could almost touch. In these boots she was his height, their eyes on the same level. She ignored his pleasant smell and the distance they shared.

"Maybe you are the Head Boy, a favorite pupil of the teachers and an incredible wizard, but soon I will be number one, I will fuel the fire. I'm the Queen, Riddle. And who are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**2\. The Queen and the Lord**

 **AN: I wanted to post it one week ago, but I started to write new story about Tom. It's about him and his sister. It would have incest relationship in it and I would like to know, if you are interested in it. I wrote a few chapters for my new story, but this time about Paul/OC from Twilight universe. Let me now if you would like to read it!**

 **I** **am not native English speaker, so please,** **forgive me** **my mistakes.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter. Rowling do.**

 **Enjoy and please share you thoughts about it!**

" _ **Is that vodka?" Margarita asked weakly.  
The cat jumped up in his seat with indignation.  
"I beg pardon, my queen," he rasped, "Would I ever allow myself to offer vodka to a lady? This is pure alcohol!"**_

 _ **M** **ikhail Bulgakov "The Master and Margarita"**_

Days varied in weeks, weeks in a month, and so Maleficent found herself one day before weekend, wondering if she would go on her first expedition to Hogsmeade this year. She would like to go for a new book, because the ' _Secrets of the Noble Lord SS_ ' were swallowed up by her in late September.

In early October, Edmund approached her, demanding that she respond to her father's letters. She stared at him as he handed her the envelope in the Common Room, then tossed it into the fireplace in front of his eyes.

 _Pass it,_ _little owl_ , she said, _A_ _nd stop drooling at the sight of Eileen. It's pathetic._

Since that incident, she did not receive any news, but her younger brother honored her with his company at dinner and forewarned her of father's presence in the town. He did not do it for free, of course. He was a Slytherin and he demanded her to do his homework about some potion. Maleficent could do it, she really could, but she didn't want to. She smiled, he took it as her consent, and then went his way. She came across him several hours later, he was pinned to the wall by older Gryffindors, the Slytherins would not dare to touch him, struggling in their grasp.

She did not say anything. She walked quietly to the tormentors, put her hands on their shoulders, and stuck her head between them. They jumped like they were burned, apologized bending in half, and Maleficent was left alone with Edmund. She checked for wounds on his body other than bruises, and when she saw nothing, she had said she repaid her debt. Edmund was not happy, though he could not disagree.

So she found herself in the dark corner of the library, sitting on the windowsill with the Transmutation textbook on her lap. Rain hit the glass, smearing the picture of the grounds. She tapped her finger on the window, hummed the lullaby and stroked book with her palm. She tried to focus on studying, but the vision of meeting her parent overwhelmed her.

At the last tete-a-tete with her father, she had promised she would not come home for Christmas and she would keep her word. Holidays were never the same after her mother death and she was sick with all artificiality. She closed her eyes and her voice became stronger.

"' _But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once_ _t_ _he way you did once upon a dream_.'"

She did not dare to sing louder. The library was crowded for some time now. The students threw themselves into the whirl of preparation for Owls or N.E.W.T or, like Maleficent, they were doing their homework. She muttered the melody under her breath, leaned her head against the glass and relaxed before making a decision.

She was close to reaching the desired nirvana, everything was losing colors and shapes, she was slowly falling asleep. She would have been in this sensation, if it had not been for the sound from the outside world. She was suddenly ripped out of bliss, the silence was disturbed, the heart returned to a restless rhythm. She turned her head aside, lazily turned her eyes to the intruder, on her face a grimace of dissatisfaction. Maleficent's clenched jaw loosened as he saw the boy's horrified, shifting gaze.

Travers recognized him as a colleague of Edmund. He, Edmund and the other tall boy formed a group of peers, and thanks to the brunette they have some kind of immunity. Edmund was a coward blanked in a bravado, and his classmates were spoiled, cheeky brats. The third year in front of her knew his place in the Slytherin hierarchy. If the Maleficent provides security for them, they must respect her.

The boy might have been fourteen, but he was not a fool. The witch could blow him off the earth with one spell, he would not know how to defend himself, and the whole thing would look like an accident. He quickly pulled himself together, calmed his breath, stood in front of her as was expected before a lady, then greeted her.

"Good evening, Miss Travers. My name is Antonin Dolohov, I am a friend of you brother…"

"I know who you are, Dolohov." she interrupted. She got up from the windowsill, put the book on the table on her left, then returned to her gaze to him. "What is the reason for your intrusion on my part of the library?"

The area next to Restricted Section belonged to her, and students who were frequent visitors to the reading room knew it well. Antonin Dolohov was not here too often. It was not a surprise to Maleficent. In the end, he was Edmund's friend. She stared at his black hair, dark eyes and limp posture.

 _How did this_ _child_ _survive in Slytherin for three years?_ , she wondered, _He is_ _unable to control h_ _is_ _magic, he looked skinny,_ _he_ _lack_ _ed_ _any aura._

Her green eyes softened. Antonin Dolohov reminded her of herself several years ago. Maybe it would not have been bad for the Queen to find the Prince for herself.

"I heard your singing, Miss, and my legs led me here on they own. You have a beautiful voice." he praised. Once Slytherin, forever Slytherin.

The story was great, Maleficent enjoyed it, but she did not believe in lies. She used wrong words, she does not believe in his lies. His compliments were true, but worthless. He had another reason to be here.

Hypocrisy would be for Maleficent to say she hates liers. She often deceived people, but she could not stand, when someone was doing it in such an unspoilt manner. Dolohov had to learn many things.

" _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar, a gleam_ _a_ _nd I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once_ _t_ _he way you did once upon a dream."_ she sang quietly, approaching the boy. He shivered as the last line was whispered in his ear. There was a mocking smile on her lips. "You are like a dog. Have not you learned anything yet? You do not come to someone more powerful than yourself to lie. You are telling the truth, if you want to achieve something. It makes an impression, it makes you seem stronger than you are. You only lie when you are sure it will bring the intended result."

He swallowed hard, slid away, and Maleficent could swear that she saw scarlet spots on his cheeks. She tilted her head to one side, suddenly interested in what he had to say. Dolohov was embarrassed and it amused her immensely. Nervously rubbing his hand, he shuffled from foot to foot, whimpering under his breath. She nearly laughed after hearing his request.

"Would you like... To go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow, Miss?

 _It is certain_ , she thought, _Dol_ _ohov_ _is_ _mad_.

Sweet Merlin, he does not remember what Maleficent did to the last daredevil, who dared to ask her out. Even with her cold behavior she was still popular with the rougher sex and she blamed her mother's genes for that. Maybe if there were more of her father's features in her, she would be repulsive, though it is a precarious theory considering Mr. Travers is handsome. The stepmother did not hit unfortunate. A handsome, rich and respected wizard looking for a wife?

 _The widow_ _er_ _and widow,_ _how_ _delightful_ , she mocked, _There's a_ _pity that the widower has a daughter._

Ravenclaw, who invited her to a date at the end of school year, seemingly he was preparing for this moment for four months, pondering whether he should do it or not, in front of everyone in the Great Hall, was crushed by her questions. Once she had convinced him, that he was worse than her, and that if he was a better wizard, she would not mind going out with him, she used one of the few spells she could throw without help of a wand, without speaking out loud, and the sixth year student choked, tears flowed from his eyes, his body seemed to burn from within.

The teachers reacted at once, but when they ran, Ravenclaw breathed heavily, released from the spell. She had no wand in her hand, she did not say a word, and the non-verbal spell without a wand was not at her level, was it? Nobody knew what happened to the boy, but they would not dare to blame Maleficent. Not to her face at least. To this day, Ravenclaw is staying away from her.

The witch had two options; agree or not. The fact that she was thinking about it was admirable. Refusal could have irrevocably broke him, but the Maleficent did not change her beliefs. Her man had to match her in every way. She would skip the age difference, if he controlled his skills well. She could fix it, she could fix him. She will not say yes, she will not say no, she will say maybe.

"I have a proposal for you, Dolohov." She leaned against the edge of the table. "I will agree to be with you, if you prove to me that you are an outstanding wizard. Expand your talents, rise to the great heights of magic, and when you do it, I will be yours."

With each word of the girl, Dolohov became more excited. Maleficent, according to him an ideal woman, promised that, if it becomes stronger, she will be his. What did that do with his young mind! The teenager has imagined these moment many times, since the first day of September. He had never felt anything like this for witch before, and Travers seemed amazing to him.

Her cat-like eyes, porcelain face, full, begging for kisses lips and body that were worth dying for. His neck flushed red at the thought of touching her waist. He approached Maleficent, grabbed her dissolved hair in his fingers, kissed them, then left without saying goodbye.

Maleficent was angry at herself for untangling the braid, before going to library. She hated people touching her. Nobody had the right to kiss or hug her without her consent. However, she was not furious for a long time. She changed it to satisfaction, knowing that the boy accepted the challenge and had the courage to make that gesture.

She tied her hair, hid her things, and then headed to the dormitory. If Dolohov did not fear Maleficent, knowing her reputation, she would not be afraid to meet her father.

"Miss Travers, could I have a word with you?" She heard a warm voice behind her. Turning around, she saw Professor Dumbledore. Maleficent had mixed feelings for Transmutation teacher. The man was able to see through her without any problems, he was not fooled by her sweet smiles and after every lesson he insisted that she give him the sincere one, just like she used years ago.

On the other hand, she admired him immensely. He discovered all her cards, he did not let her to start playing with him like she did wit other professors. He deciphered Riddle! How amazing he must have been to do this. Without much trouble he recognized the wolf in sheep's clothing!

Thrill of excitement run trough Maleficent's back as her teacher's eyes rested on her. She imagined as a man discovers her secrets one after another, the next ones ever darker that previous, until she finally stands naked, in his mind defenseless, and once he turned his back on her, trusting her again, she would hit hard, bit into his flesh with all her power. She would use magic and he would...

She basked in knowing that Dumbledore did not know her desires. It was not appropriate for a young girl to dream of events from this matter.

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore." she answered immediately, then followed him by a deserted corridor toward his office.

Dinner ended less than five minutes ago, students went to theirs dormitories, she was about to lie down earlier, although it was not yet nine in the evening. However, you do not deny one of yours authorities, do you?

"Please sit down, Miss Travers." he pointed to one of the armchairs by the fireplace. "Tea?"

"No, thank you, Professor." she said, occupying a designated place.

"My dear, you are probably asking yourself why I want to talk with you? "He sat next to the table, lemon drops appeared on the table, flames in the fireplace. "Headmaster Dippet informed me of the changes you and Tom introduced to the patrols table of the prefects. I looked at the sketch that Tom provided. I am worried about the frequency of your commonly rounds. I would not protest, if there were other partners switching between the two of you. Prefects mix in this layout for the next month, but you and Tom are always together."

She drew her lips in a straight line, frowned, she racked her brain. She tried to recall, when she debated with Riddle about their patrols. She remembered how he put two and two together, promised to make up for it, but she did not think that would really happen.

 _I_ _can blame m_ _yself_ _for that_ , she realized, _my last leap cause_ _d_ _it_. _And ignoring him for the last month after asking a very important, existential question_ _could have a major part in it too_ _. He had the right to be confused by my_ _outburst_ _, of course._

"I do not want to cause problems, Professor, neither to you or the Head Boy. Indeed, Mr. Riddle and I chat about our duties during one of our few conversations. I believe that Mr. Riddle did not have bad intentions, although the effects are not satisfactory. We have noticed that we have not patrolled corridors together and now he want to catch up. I'm not sure through, maybe you should ask him?"

"I put your comfort first, Miss Travers." he said after a few seconds of hesitation. "You agree to such scheme? If not, then please, do not hesitate to ask for a change."

"If it does not complicate the situation, then I agree to the second version. Fine changes will not hurt, but before I go..." She stopped, standing by the door, ready to leave. "You would do me a great favor, if he did not enlist me with Mr. Riddle at all. The Head Boy and I do not agree on many issues, and joint rounds could lead to an increase in conflict between us. We have common friends and we work together as Prefect and Head Boy, but we are never alone. I will be eternally grateful for your kindness. Thank you and I wish you a good night."

Without waiting for the response, she ran out of the office. Her legs tangled between her long skirt from her uniform, her hands sweating, and her pulse accelerated. Maleficent can afford such reactions only when she is alone, so she does waste time. She lean on the cold walls of Hogwarts and inhibits the need to vomit.

She avoided Riddle no without a reason. She declared war on him, sweet Merlin! She said she was a Queen, she pointed out his blood status. The theory that he is a half blood was not confirmed, albeit highly probable. He did not know many of the pureblood customs, he knew a lot about muggles, did not talk about his family or vacation. Sorting Hat would not put a Muggle born in Slytherin. Would it?

 _No, no, no,_ she argued, _why did I let the pride take over? What was I thinking about then?_

She was almost crying. Maleficent did not care, if anyone saw her face red, bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was waiting for the end, because she was afraid of people stronger than her, who caused this kind of reaction from her. Last time it happened two years ago, and Maleficent did not want to go back to it, she did not want to see the face of the sorcerer.

What he had told her to do with the Muggle was frightening. Nightmares were leaving her only at Hogwarts, where she knew she was safe. How wrong! Her lips trembled at the memory of a hand in the throat of a defenseless girl, pushing chunks of bloody material into it. Muggle was begging Maleficent to stop, although the canvases drowned her scream. The girl died trying to get rid of the fabric from her body.

Before that, they raped and beat her, and her death was a distinction for the fourteen-year-old Miss Travers. They stuck her clothes in Maleficet's hands, most likely teared during the sex, leading her to a dying woman. The wizard explained what she was supposed to do with it, but she did not know the cause. She choked out that she could not do something that would make her sinful for the rest of her life.

The man stroked her cheek, he brushed away hair from her face, drew the lines of her lips with his thumb. He explained that the woman is just an animal, a dog that does not listen to master, that she do not deserve merciful death, and Maleficent could put an end to her torment. He said it was an award for the Muggle, that it was a prize for Maleficent, but also the price she had to pay for his lessons. She almost complained that she did not ask for it, it was all the fault of her father, she did not want it.

She did not move, stared at the woman and thought about escaping. She analyzed her abilities for too long, the sorcerer leaned over her, whispered into his ear.

Your stepmother can end up like that, darling, shiver passed through her, though she did not care what happened to her father's mistress, and if it does not impress you, then I'll take her son, your little brother, and he'll end up in the place of this tramp. You will have to push all sorts of objects into his throat. Still no reaction? Do it before I start to fuck you in front of my people, girl, come on!

There was no need to add the last phrase. He convinced her enough with Edmund. This year he had got a letter from Hogwarts. Starting school with trauma is not a child's dream. Additional motivation was the last threat. She did not want to lose her virginity with a much older man she was only averse to.

She did what he commanded and did it for herself, no matter how selfish it sounded, and for Edmund, she dug into her mind not to feel guilty. Cruel laughter sounded in her ears every time she saw thestrals pulling carriages. She found them in a book of magical creatures, remembered the definition, she debated if she understand the death of an innocent girl.

She suffocated, she lacked oxygen in her lungs. She was sure Riddle was her punishment for the crime she committed. She will never be equal to him and she will die trying. The act of the barbarity she has committed will never be forgiven, she will not forgive herself. If she used Avada Kedavra her actions would not be so barbaric and she would not have dreamed of the muggle's empty eyes.

She slide down the wall, her legs could no longer hold her. She sobbed aloud, then quickly suppressed the rest of the unwanted sounds with her palm. Oh how she wanted to be in her dormitory!

"Maleficent?" She suffocated herself, but did not raise her head. "All right?"

Brunet crouched beside her, and when he did not get the answer, he slipped his right hand under her knee and left on the small of her back. Maleficent found herself in his arms. Boy's shoulders were wide, perfect for concealing unwanted tears in them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clenched her fingers on her friend's from the beginning of her education clothes.

Maleficent missed him much more than Nott. They understood each other without words, only he was allowed to touch her without asking for permission. She never regretted losing him as much as in the fourth year. When she was thirteen, much changed in her life, she pushed aside all of them, but not Alphard and Cantankerus. In May 1942, just two months after her birthday, she had no one on her side.

She loved Alphard as a brother. He allowed her to fly on a broomstick, when no one was looking, although she should not have been doing it since she was eight. He made Maleficent smile with his stupid jokes, he played with her hair, while learning together in the library.

She did not notice, when they were in the Common Room. It was late, the Slytherins slept in their beds. Black put her on the sofa and then sat down on it. He took off her shoes, put them on the floor, and began massaging her feet, placing them on his lap.

\- "Alphard? "She rasped. "I was starving for you."

"I officially announce my jealousy." they heard.

Three men and a boy came out of the corridor leading to the male dormitory. Nott's voice and messy hair, she recognized immediately. He appeared suddenly beside her, his fingers clutching her chin, lifting it up.

"Good evening, Cantankerus. How was your day?"

He wiped her tears with his sleeve, smearing the lipstick on her lips. He left his hands on Maleficent's collarbone and stroked it as if to make sure everything was okay and that she was not hurt in any way.

"Why did you cry, Mal?" he asked, his breath near her temples. "Did someone hurt you?"

She forgot about Riddle, about their two year absence from her lives, about her father, about _him_. Everything became Black and Nott. Just as if they did not part. She touched Nott's hairs in a way she had done it a few years ago and kissed his forehead. An innocent gesture that did not match her, warmed Nott's heart. His skin on her lips, the warmth of his flesh. Maleficent wanted to stay here forever. She, Cantankerus and Alphard. Is it not a beautiful combination?

"I do not want to ruin this meaningful moment." The spell was broken, magic has disappeared, time to wake up from your dream, Cinderella. "But we have something to do, Nott."

Maleficent broke off contact with her friend, and turned to the speaker. Riddle stood proud, erect with red glow in his eyes. He did not look happy with the scene before him. He despised covetousness, public affection, any emotion. He did not expect to see the weeping Miss Travers in Black's companion in an ambiguous position on one of the common room's couches. In addition, Nott added his twopenn'orth, which made the situation uncomfortable.

Riddle felt the greed associated with the witch. Her magic so perfectly compatible with his, pure blood, the beauty of mind and body and the character he could not figure out. He had been watching her closely since the release of the basilisk. The serpent had a certain affection for Travers, which heir of Salazar Slytherin could not grasp, could not grasp her talent, until their magic had begun to fight.

During his earlier observations, he did not make any remarkable skills, except for outstanding marks, impeccable behavior and a very strong aura. Later, he slowly discovered how well she masked her excesses, her mania to have control of everything and everyone. Her movements, looks, perfection screamed 'Queen'.

Although Maleficent had one drawback, that was connected with many of her advantages: she was a woman. Women are influenced by emotions, they have a glass heart, they are easy to manipulate, things that were wrong with her, for someone like him is something he can easily use, and although they have the gift of organization and know the art of fraud, they cannot fully use it.

He saw Maleficent on the throne with a black crown and a golden long scepter with an irreconcilable expression on her face. Cruel, soulless Black Queen, judging anyone who opposes her. In his memory, he had a picture of a witch instructing her colleague from the dormitory to leave to the fifth year one. She left no room for any discussion, she requires, she has it.

That is why he felt a slight disappointment when he saw salty drops flowing from her eyes. He had the impression that she was unique, different, similar to him. Disappointment did not last long. Maleficent got up violently, but with grace, her naked feet hitting the floor. She stood before the third year boy, about ten centimeters taller than him, watching him from above. The boy shrank under her gaze, but did not step back.

"Can you explain what you do with the Knights, Dolohov?" Her voice full of venom, dissatisfaction." Among them you won't be a King."

"You told me to develop, so..."

"I do not need someone as insensitive as me. I need someone who will accept me completely. I will never be yours if you are not equal to me."

The witch paid no heed, returned to her place and demanded another massage.

Alphard laughed under his breath and fulfill the silent request. Because all the commotion, he has not answered her yet. He pulled her legs toward him and kissed her ankle. Unlike Nott's, Black's kiss expressed his total devotion to Maleficent, not innocence, it was passion, friendly passion.

 _I missed you more_ , he seemed to speak.

Green eyes looked curiously at the actions of his best friend. It was very inaccurate in their environment. Maleficent's relationship with the two boys was inappropriate according to the society frames. As a lady she should spend time with ladies, not with boys, and as gentlemen they should not seduce girls. But have they ever been interested in the public opinion about them?

 _Why did I leave them?_ , she thought, forgetting the Slytherin rules in which she was imprisoned, _I love them_.

"How do you know about Knights?" Riddle asked. Maleficent's attention was pulled away again.

"I know of every group that deals more or less with Dark Arts," she said. "I wanted to join you, although you call yourself the Knights of Walpurgis, so I would not fit in there with my sex. The second reason was the leader. My third was reluctance to cooperate with anyone."

"We'll be happy to have you," he said quickly. "We can change the name, you will have enough time to know me, and during the rounds, there will certainly be more opportunities. You can think of it as the Slug Club or Prefect's duties. Just they would be a lot more pleasant."

"I'm not sure. Your goals..."

"Blood purity, gaining control over the magical Great Britain, showing Muggles where their place is, gaining immortality," recalls Malfoy.

She only agreed with half of their ambition, one of them only caught up now. Absolute power through eternity? This thought was utopian.

 _So I will create my_ _own_ _world._

"Suggestions for a new name?" she said, letting them know that she is not opposed to the idea.

"The Queen and the Lord, how noble," Abraxas whined, but Riddle and Travers did not listen, completely absorbed in their new visions.

Riddle did not stop the smile that filled his mouth. He envision what he could do with Maleficent at his side. Wizards would respect him for capturing such a good gentlewoman from an old, pureblood family, her magic matched him, she lacked nothing.

Maleficent behaved in the same way, her eyes gleamed, new ideas appeared in her head. Power and immortality. She was not afraid of death, but how her empire could have failed without her supervision. Riddle's company was necessary. If he finds a way, she will not mind sharing the pleasure of power.

"Death Eaters," she whispered, kneeling on the couch, almost touching Tom's lips."The world will know us as Death Eaters."

"With Lord Voldemort and the Black Queen in the lead," Riddle said in euphoria. "It sounds divine, isn't it?


End file.
